


I'll Cover You

by sahiya



Series: President Rogers and Mr. Stark [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: BAMF Tony Stark, Hurt Steve Rogers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Poisoning, President Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Sickfic, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-27
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2019-02-07 11:42:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,531
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12840432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: "FRIDAY, get me Gina––GINA! Some asshole thinks they can take us out of the sustainable energy conversation by making Steve puke until he turns inside out.”“Not helping, Tony.”





	I'll Cover You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [firefly124](https://archiveofourown.org/users/firefly124/gifts).



> This was written for firefly124 for the prompt "poisoning" in my [2017 Fuck Trump H/C BINGO Fundraiser](http://sahiya.dreamwidth.org/736914.html). It's in the same 'verse as "All the Pizza in Manhattan."
> 
> Many thanks to Miri_Thompson for beta reading! Title is from _RENT_ , of course.

“I want to die.”

“You’re out of luck, then, because this wasn’t designed to kill you, just incapacitate you. Seriously, this is amateur hour––will someone get the leader of the free world a fucking IV?”

“Tony, don’t yell at them––oh God––”

“Yes, _thank_ you, took you long enough. Now please leave. FRIDAY, get me Gina––GINA! Some asshole thinks they can take us out of the sustainable energy conversation by making Steve puke until he turns inside out.”

“Not helping, Tony.” 

“Yeah, the Secret Service is working on it. And, I mean, I’m here, but no one elected me, and I’m sadly lacking in constitutional authority.”

Tony fell silent––listening, Steve guessed, to Steve’s own chief of staff. Steve let himself go limp and rested his head on his arm on the edge of the toilet. Tony was multitasking, making listening noises while he talked to Gina, and also putting Steve’s IV line in. He’d kicked everyone out of their suite when it became clear that the anti-emetics they’d given him were doing nothing to combat the poison currently trying to dissolve Steve’s stomach lining. Tony had slapped a bunch of biosensors on him and started getting readings from FRIDAY. 

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Tony said at last, “just get me someone who can make decisions before I circumvent the entire U.S. government in a blind rage. Okay, talk soon, gotta go.” 

Tony finished taping down the IV needle and gave Steve’s arm a gentle pat. “How’re you doing?”

“Awful,” Steve admitted. He paused and breathed through a sudden spike of nausea. “Got spoiled, I guess,” he managed at last. “Haven’t felt this bad in about ninety years.”

“It’s kind of impressive,” Tony said. “Helen and Bruce combined never managed to develop a painkiller your body couldn’t metabolize into nothing.”

Steve turned his head just far enough to glare at Tony. “Please don’t be impressed by my would-be assassin.”

Tony frowned. “I told you, this wasn’t meant to kill you, just make you _wish_ you were dead. And distract me, I guess, as though I wouldn’t see through that. Christ, how dumb do these people think we are?”

Steve would’ve answered, but he started throwing up again, and for awhile, that was all he could think about. To his relief, Tony shut up about the evil genius of the person who’d poisoned him and restricted himself to making soothing noises, rubbing Steve’s back, and offering him sips of water in between spasms. Steve was vaguely aware that Tony was also texting with various people through FRIDAY, but he had enough faith in Tony and his staff to let himself not worry about it for now. Tony’s nonchalance about the effects of the drug were reassuring––if also a little annoying––but even if it wouldn’t cause him lasting harm, the pain and exhaustion had temporarily obliterated his higher brain functions.

The next time he was really aware of anything other than nausea, he found himself lying on the bathroom floor, with his head in Tony’s lap. His entire body was covered in a fine layer of sweat, and he was chilled and shivering. His stomach was cramping slightly, the way it had been for hours now, and he didn’t think he could have moved if he’d had to. Tony’s hand was stroking slowly through his hair. Steve closed his eyes and tried to focus on that. 

Tony’s phone rang. “Stark,” Tony answered. “Yeah, send them in, thanks.” His hand, to Steve’s disappointment, stopped moving. Tony gave a light tug on the strands. “Good news, Steve. The calvary has arrived.”

Steve gave a grunt he hoped sounded inquisitive. 

“Sam and Nat are here,” Tony clarified, right before the door to their suite opened. 

“Tony?” Natasha called. 

“In here,” Tony said. Steve tried to roll onto his back, hoping it’d make him look less pathetic, but his entire core was so sore that he could barely move. Tony pressed his hand against Steve’s shoulder, holding him in place as Nat came in. 

“Jesus, Steve,” she said, crouching down next to him. “Who do I have to kill?”

“No one,” Steve croaked, just as Tony said, “That’s what you and I need to figure out.”

“Tony––”

“Hush, Steve, we’re not actually going to kill anyone.” Tony paused. “Maim, maybe. After watching you puke your guts out for hours, I wouldn’t mind some light maiming.”

Steve made a noise of protest, but Tony just sailed on as though he hadn’t said anything. “Nat and I will head back to the energy summit. My guess is that whoever poisoned you won’t be expecting to see me so soon. Sam is going to stay with you and make sure you don’t die of dehydration. Sam, he hasn’t vomited in about twenty minutes, so the worst might be over. But he’ll need a new saline bag soon.”

“Got it,” Sam said. Steve hadn’t even noticed him following Nat in, but he was kneeling down by Steve’s feet. He rested a hand on Steve’s ankle. “How you doing, man? You look pretty rough.”

“I’ve been better,” Steve admitted. He thought he should tell Sam to go with Nat and Tony; three pairs of eyes and ears in the room at the energy summit were better than two. But he couldn’t bring himself to do it. He felt so weak and woozy that he wasn’t sure he could have defended himself if he’d had to, and dehydration was a real danger. It made him feel a lot better to know Sam was there.

“Can you guys give us a minute?” Tony asked. 

Nat and Sam stepped into the bedroom. Tony leaned down and pressed his forehead to Steve’s. “I’m sorry I have to leave you right now,” Tony murmured. “Gotta go slay some enemies. No actual slaying,” he added hastily. “Strictly metaphorical slaying.”

Steve smiled weakly. “Thanks, Tony.”

Tony sat up a little and smoothed sweaty hair off Steve’s forehead. “Sam’ll take good care of you.”

Steve suspected he was trying to convince himself more than Steve. “He will,” he agreed. “It’s okay, Tony. Go get ‘em for me.”

Tony nodded. He pressed a kiss to Steve’s forehead and shoved himself up. “By the time I see you tonight, we’ll have figured out who did this _and_ we’ll have a new carbon emissions agreement. Just you wait.”

Steve had no doubt, just as he had no doubt that Tony was the right person for both those jobs. But that didn’t stop him from feeling a little bereft once Tony and Nat had left. 

Sam didn’t give Steve much time to dwell on it. He dragged Steve to his feet and sat him on the bench in the shower, where he helped Steve rinse off three hours of cold sweat. Sam even made him wash his mouth out with the hotel mouthwash; that got a little dicey, but the minty taste it left him with was a considerable improvement. Steve had to admit that everything seemed a little more bearable once he was clean and wearing pajamas instead of the sweaty remnants of a suit. The hotel room bed wasn’t _his_ bed, but it was definitely better than the bathroom floor. 

Sam tucked him in, going so far as to fluff his pillows for him. He pressed the back of his hand to Steve’s forehead and frowned. “You sure you don’t want me to call a doctor?”

Steve shook his head. “No one but Helen and Bruce really understands my body chemistry. Even if they did, until Tony figures out what’s going on, I can’t trust anyone here. He was pretty sure whatever they gave me isn’t going to kill me. I’d rather just hole up here and deal with the symptoms.”

Sam nodded. “Okay. Let’s get your IV set up in here, and then you can sleep.”

Steve wasn’t sure he would sleep; he was exhausted, but he was also really uncomfortable. But Sam produced a heating pad from the small bag of medical supplies he’d brought with him, and slipped it under the covers to rest against Steve’s stomach. The discomfort lessened by several degrees, and Steve suddenly couldn’t keep his eyes open. 

“That’s amazing,” Steve mumbled. “Sam, oh my God. I’m leaving Tony for you.”

Sam laughed softly. “Go to sleep, Steve.”

Steve had no choice but to obey. 

***

Steve woke to the certainty that he was about to be very, very sick. 

He must’ve made a noise, because someone was suddenly rolling him over and sitting him up, and there was a trash can in his lap. He spent several long seconds fighting his body, trying to convince it not to be sick, but it was a losing battle. 

There was barely anything left in him to bring up. He dry heaved until tears were streaming down his face and he was shaking. 

“Okay, okay, come on, man, breathe,” a familiar voice––Sam––was saying. Steve opened his eyes and realized he was in a hotel room, and Sam was sitting next to him on the bed, rubbing his back. “Sam?” he managed. “Where––what––”

“Brussels, remember?”

Brussels. The energy summit. “Yeah,” Steve managed. “Tony?”

“Still out with Nat.” His phone buzzed. “Speak of the devil. Tony?” Sam paused. Steve dragged in another breath and tightened his grip on the trash can. He’d been sick a lot before the serum, so this possibly wasn’t the worst he’d ever felt, but it had to be in the running for the top five. “Yeah, he got sick again. How’d you know? Ah. He seems okay. A little disoriented, maybe.” Another pause. “Yeah, hang on. Steve, you think you can talk to Tony for a few minutes?”

Steve badly wanted to hear Tony’s voice, but he wasn’t sure he could open his mouth without gagging. He shook his head.

“Maybe in a couple minutes,” Sam said to Tony. Then, “How are things on your end?” Sam made listening noises as he got up and went into the bathroom. He came back with a damp washcloth, which he used to wipe Steve’s face. Then he folded it up and laid it over the back of Steve’s neck. He rubbed the muscles at the nape, and Steve groaned softly. 

“Well, all that sounds promising,” Sam finally said. “We’re okay here, really. I think Steve might be able to say hi now, just a second. Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve mumbled. Sam fit the earpiece over his ear, so he didn’t even have to let go of the trash can. “Tony?”

“Fuck, sweetheart, you sound awful,” Tony said, sounding worried. The endearment wasn’t like him, but Steve would’ve been lying if he’d said it didn’t make him feel kind of warm and fuzzy. “FRIDAY texted me that your temperature and pulse rate were both spiking.”

“I’m okay. Sam’s taking good care of me.” The words felt like they were coming at about half their usual speed. 

“I know, I’d just prefer that I was the one taking care of you,” Tony grumbled. “I’d say that I’ll be back soon, but it’s probably a lie. I’m making progress, but it’s going to be awhile yet. I might not be back until late.”

“Oh.” Steve hadn’t even known that he’d been hoping to see Tony sooner than later, but the stab of disappointment he felt made it clear he had been. His eyes were suddenly hot. 

Whatever Tony could discern in Steve’s voice made him growl. “I swear to God, I’m going to make whoever did this pay twice over––once for doing it, and once for making me leave you while you were this sick.” Steve tried to object, but the words got stuck in his sore throat, and Tony was already talking again. “Listen, I’ll try to come back before dinner. I should change, anyway. That’s less than three hours from now. Okay?”

“Okay,” Steve agreed. 

“Good. Get some rest. Love you.”

“Love you, too,” Steve said. “Be careful.”

“I will. I’ll see you soon.” Tony disconnected. 

Sam took the earpiece back. “Can you let go of this, too?” Sam asked, hand on the trash can. Steve nodded. Sam took the trash can away, and there was the sound of water running in the bathroom. Steve stayed hunched over, arms wrapped around his midsection, until Sam came back. He forced Steve to lie back down. Steve groaned softly as his core muscles screamed at him. He wondered if the poison had somehow undermined his healing abilities, because nothing seemed to be getting any better.

He said as much to Sam, who frowned. “I’m not a doctor or an expert on the serum, but the poison seems to be confusing your immune system, making it think this is something it can fight. It’s not, but it’s working overtime anyway. It might be that it’s too busy to repair some of the other damage.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Steve curled up on his side around the heating pad. “Sucks.”

“I’m sure it does.” Sam’s hand landed on the back of Steve’s neck and squeezed gently. “We’re going to need to get some food in your system at some point. According to the readings from FRIDAY, your blood sugar is bottoming out.”

Just the thought of eating made Steve’s stomach roll. “I can’t, Sam. Please.”

“Yeah, okay, not yet.” Sam sat on the edge of the bed, still rubbing the back of Steve’s neck. It felt good enough that Steve managed to uncurl out of his fetal position, just a little, some of the tension bleeding out of him. 

He was suddenly so grateful to Sam. He might’ve preferred Tony, but he didn’t want Sam to think he wasn’t glad to have him there, especially when he’d dropped everything. “Thanks for coming,” Steve murmured. “You didn’t have to.”

Sam’s hand stilled briefly, then went back to rubbing. “Don’t be stupid. You might have taken a timeout from avenging, but you’re still one of us. We always have your back. This is what I’m good at, just like Nat’s good at the super secret spy thing.”

“Yeah. I’m just... really glad you’re here,” Steve said sleepily. 

“Me too,” Sam said quietly.

***

“... swear these people think everyone around them is an idiot. I know I gave up a lot of my old life when Steve got elected, but did they think I disinvested _from my brain_ along with Stark Industries? For fuck’s sake.”

“Tony,” Sam said.

“I don’t care how many shell corporations are set up between that jackass and the lab in fucking Siberia or wherever the hell he sourced that shit, I will figure it out, and then I will crush him like the bug he is.”

“ _Tony_.”

“Seriously, it’s like he forgot that I was Tony Fucking Stark before I was First Gentleman. There is nowhere he can hide from me, and I want him to know that before I’m done with him.”

“Tony,” Steve rasped. Tony fell silent instantly, turning toward Steve. “I know you’re pissed, just, could you be pissed quietly? My head is pounding.”

“I’m sorry,” Tony said, actually looking kind of chagrined. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Steve said. “I’m glad you did, I wouldn’t have wanted to miss you.” He thought about trying to sit up, but even small movements were painful. At least he wasn’t nauseous. For now.

“I’m gonna run out and get some supplies,” Sam said. “We need to get calories into you.”

“Take Nat with you,” Steve said, trying to lift his head to look at Sam. 

“I can handle myself.”

Steve lost the battle with trying to hold his head up. He let it fall back to rest on the pillow with a faint groan. “Humor me.” 

Sam sighed. “Yeah, okay. But only because you look like a sad wet kitten.”

“I’ll take it,” Steve said. Sam gave him a thumbs up and let himself out. 

“That almost looks like a smile,” Tony said. “You must be feeling better.” Steve heard the sound of a belt-buckle being unfastened, and then Tony’s pants hit the floor. Steve felt Tony lift the covers and crawl in next to Steve.

“A little better,” Steve said, wishing he wasn’t stuck on his side, unable to really see Tony. But he wasn’t sure he even wanted to try rolling over. “Not so sick, just really weak and sore. I feel like my healing hasn’t kicked in at all.”

“Hmm.” Tony slid up close behind Steve. “Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere. My stomach, my head, my throat. My back is killing me. I think I strained a muscle throwing up.”

“Where?” Tony asked, and Steve felt him start rubbing his lower back. 

“Lower.” Steve grunted. “There. Ow.”

“Yeah, that’s tight,” Tony said, and started working the muscle. 

It was really painful for a few seconds and then eased up as the muscle released some of its tightness. Steve groaned. “Yeah, there. That’s... good.” He closed his eyes. Tony’s hands were like magic. He could feel himself unspooling. “Do you really have to go to the dinner?”

“Much as I’d rather spend the evening rubbing you down, yes,” Tony said. “I was so busy trying to figure out who poisoned you that I didn’t make a lot of progress on the actual reason we’re here. I gotta schmooze the hold-outs. I figure I’ll dangle some free Stark tech in front of them. I can do that, right? It’s not a conflict of interest if I’m asking Pepper to give it away.”

“Run it by counsel,” Steve mumbled. “So, who was it?”

“Oh, those oil and gas assholes, I’m sure. That EnginCorp guy was fishing to find out how you were doing. _Oh, I’m so sorry to hear the president is under the weather_ ,” Tony said in an exaggerated falsetto, “ _I was looking forward to renewing our debate about the Keystone pipeline._ ”

“Oh, that guy. Whathisname. Nielson?” Steve remembered him from inauguration. He had the vague idea that he’d wanted to be considered for a cabinet position and had been bitterly disappointed when Steve had gone with people who had actual experience.

“Yeah. He’s got all kinds of connections in places he shouldn’t have them. I still want to know who actually created the poison, because obviously it wasn’t him, but I’d bet DUM-E that he sourced it.”

“You tell Val?”

“Yup. She’s got the rest of the agents working on it, and the FBI. Don’t worry.” Tony eased up on the pressure on Steve’s back and rubbed a few softer circles. “Is that better?”

“Much. Thanks.” Steve managed to straighten out a little, rolling onto his stomach, and Tony kind of draped himself over his back. He mouthed a line of kisses from Steve’s shoulder blade up to the nape of his neck before tucking his face into Steve’s shoulder. 

Despite Tony’s general gregariousness, he did know how to be quiet when Steve needed him to be. Steve would’ve happily stayed like that for the rest of the night; it made him feel warm and safe to have Tony lying basically right on top of him, putting himself between Steve and the rest of the world. But that was what Tony was going to be doing at the dinner, too, Steve reminded himself, no less than he was right now. 

“I have to get dressed,” Tony murmured after a while. “I’m already pushing it. I was going to shower, but I think I ran down the clock on that.”

Steve sighed. “I needed this.”

“Me too.” Tony pressed one last kiss to the back of Steve’s neck and slid out of bed. 

Steve turned his head and watched through half-lidded eyes as Tony dressed in a fresh suit, meticulously picking lint off the shoulders and tying the tie with quick, practiced motions. In less than five minutes, no one would have guessed that he’d just been lying on top of Steve in an undershirt and boxer-briefs. Steve watched as he added a dab of cologne and finger brushed his hair into some semblance of order. 

The only things left were his shoes and his cufflinks. “C’mere,” Steve said, before Tony could start trying to do the cufflinks up himself. 

Tony came and sat on the edge of the bed, holding his arm out so Steve could fasten them for him. He was wearing the red and gold ones tonight, the ones he wore when he wanted to remind others––and, Steve often suspected, himself––that he was still Iron Man, even if he’d put the suit away for now. Steve couldn’t do them up while lying flat, so he had to push himself up. Tony helped, and this time he actually managed a sort of semi-vertical lean against the pillows and the headboard.

He finished the second set of cufflinks and paused with Tony’s hand cradled in both of his. “Try not to start an international incident or cause a constitutional crisis, all right?” he said, looking up at Tony. 

“No promises,” Tony said with a smile. He paused. “You know... I could have Friday give you the audio version of the evening through an earpiece. Even the visual; I bet she can hack the hotel’s security system pretty easily, send the feed to your TV.”

Steve thought about it for a few seconds. “No,” he finally said. “I appreciate the offer, but I trust you.” He wouldn’t have been of much use anyway, he suspected. And Sam probably would not have been in favor. 

Tony nodded, as though that was the answer he’d expected. “Won’t let you down.”

Steve squeezed Tony’s hand. “You never do.”

***

Sam returned, laden down with shopping bags. Tony headed out with Nat, with the promise that he wouldn’t eat anything without letting FRIDAY analyze it first. 

“You’re upright,” Sam observed, unpacking the bags at suite’s monstrosity of a desk. 

“Sort of. It’s taking a lot out of me.”

“I think you’ll feel better once we’ve got your blood sugar back up,” Sam said. “Here, let’s start with ginger ale. Sip it slowly.”

The ginger ale went down easier than Steve had expected, and Sam was right, he did feel better afterward––still sore but less shaky and weak. Steve’s body wasn’t meant to go twenty-four hours without food, and he’d not kept anything down since the night before. He didn’t feel well enough to try anything else Sam had bought, not even the applesauce, but two ginger ales went down and stayed there. 

Belgian TV was weird, but Sam had brought a tablet with him, which he propped up between them. “Let me guess,” Sam said, scrolling through the Netflix offerings. “ _Parks and Rec_?”

Steve nodded. “Would it be too on-the-nose if I asked for the flu episode?”

Sam laughed. “Yeah, but I’ll allow it.”

Tony kept texting with updates––mostly things like, _We’ve hit the fish course and no one’s poisoned me yet_ and _Entrée over. Still not poisoned._ Occasionally it was something more along the lines of, _Nicaragua’s gonna sign, they just want as much free Stark tech as possible before they do. Can’t blame them._

“Your boy’s good at this,” Sam observed after FRIDAY read them Tony’s latest text about negotiations with the Chinese ambassador. 

“He is,” Steve said around a yawn. “He probably should’ve been the one up for election, but his misspent youth made that basically impossible.”

“I didn’t think hookers and blow were much of an obstacle anymore.”

“No, I guess not,” Steve said, thinking ruefully of his Republican opponent. “But people have Strong Opinions about Tony Stark. It was just too much baggage. Plus, Congress already hated him. They didn’t have nearly as much of an opinion about me.”

“And what do they think about you now?” Sam asked, eyeing him sideways. 

Steve just smiled. 

He dozed through four or five episodes, slumped sideways against Sam’s arm. He’d slept so much that it didn’t seem like it should be possible for him to sleep anymore, but he was so drained. He hoped that at least part of that exhaustion was his body finally remembering how to repair itself. This was getting real old, real fast. 

When he woke again, it was to the sound of the door to the suite shutting. 

“It’s us,” Tony said, before Steve could get alarmed. Beside Steve, Sam stirred. He must’ve fallen asleep, too. Tony leaned over and peered at the tablet. “ _Parks and Rec_. You’re so predictable.”

“Leslie Knope is a national treasure,” Steve mumbled, “or would be if she weren’t fictional. How was it?”

Tony shrugged. “Not bad. Nat?”

“Val says we got enough for a warrant for Nielson’s emails,” Nat said. “The request went to a judge in DC tonight.”

Steve frowned at Tony. “You don’t think he’d be dumb enough to discuss something like this over email?”

“Oh honey, I think he’s exactly that dumb,” Tony purred as he undid the cufflinks Steve had fastened for him earlier. “And if he wasn’t explicit about it, I’m sure there’s _something_ there the investigators can use. He’s not a sophisticated political operative or a trained assassin, he’s just a corporate hack who’d rather risk prison than spend ten seconds thinking about how he might re-make his company to be relevant in the twenty-first century. EnginCorp has smart people, probably. They could throw some of those profits back into R &D and develop some sustainable solutions. But no,” Tony whipped his tie off with an indignant jerk, “they’d rather expend their brain power coming up with some harebrained scheme to take you out of the game. I _hate_ these people. They’re evil and they’re not even _interesting_.”

Nat pursed her lips and turned to Steve. “He’s been like this all evening.”

“Yeah, sorry. I owe you. Thanks for keeping him alive.”

“No problem. You look a little better. You’ve got some color in your face.”

“Yeah, I think Sam was right about my blood sugar. I should be better by tomorrow.”

“Take a few days off when you get home,” Nat said. “Come up to New York.”

“We can’t really––”

“Come up to New York,” she repeated. “It’d be nice to see you when you aren’t half-dead.”

Steve glanced at Tony. He was totally expressionless, giving away nothing, which was how Steve knew that Tony really wanted it. “Okay,” he finally said. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Nat smiled. “Good.” She leaned down and kissed Steve’s forehead, then reached over and poked Sam. “Come on, Sam. Let Tony and Steve have their bed back.”

“Okay, okay,” Sam grumbled. “How are you so awake? We’ve been up for like thirty-six hours.”

“And I don’t intend to be up for much longer, so come on.” Nat dragged Sam off the bed. “Good night, you two. We’ll be one floor down. Call us if you need us.”

“Thanks,” Tony said. Steve echoed him tiredly. 

Tony changed started changing into pajamas. “So how much better are you actually feeling?”

“Marginally,” Steve admitted. “My core feels like I’ve been beaten, and I think I could sleep for about three days straight.”

“Your body probably ran through all its reserves. Were you able to eat anything?”

“No. Had some ginger ale.”

“Is there any left?” Tony asked, and bent down to rummage in the mini-fridge. “Ah ha. Here we go. One more before bed, all right?”

“Okay,” Steve said. Tony cracked the can open for Steve and also claimed a mineral water for himself. He climbed into bed and sighed deeply, slumped back against the headboard. Steve rested his head on Tony’s abs and accepted the ginger ale. Tony’s arm came to curl across his shoulders and his fingers sank into Steve’s hair. 

“Keep doing that, I’m not gonna be awake long enough to finish this,” Steve murmured.

“Mmm,” Tony said, sounding half-asleep himself. “Just don’t spill it on me.”

Steve made it through half the can before he gave up. He let Tony take it away from him, then winced through Tony moving him around until he was on his side. It was worth it, though, when Tony curled around him. Tony should not have been able to make him feel small, but he did, in the best possible way. Steve slept. 

***

Air Force One the next afternoon was unusually quiet. Usually it was bustling, with staff taking meetings and phone calls in all the public areas of the plane, but if that was going on, people were doing it out of sight of him. 

Steve strapped himself in with a sigh. He had briefings to read, but his head was throbbing and he was pretty sure he was going sleep most of the way back.

“Nat and Sam get back okay?” he asked Tony. They’d headed back to New York in the Quinjet that morning after the treaty was signed with zero fuss or drama, because Tony was amazing. Steve had barely been on his feet at the ceremony, but it hadn’t mattered. 

“Yep,” Tony said, glancing up from his phone. “Gina says you looked like shit in the photos from this morning.”

“Yeah, well, at least it put an end to the rumors that I’d died.”

“I wouldn’t bet on that,” Tony said. “I’m sure zombie Rogers theories will abound on the internet by the time we land.”

“Mr. President, Mr. Stark,” one of the stewards said, “we’ll be serving lunch as soon as we’re in the air. What would you like?”

“Nothing for me, thanks,” Steve said, one hand stealing to his abdomen. He’d had oatmeal for breakfast, and he could still feel it sitting like a rock in his stomach. Clearly, he was going to be a little longer in recovering from this than he’d like.

“Yeah, no,” Tony said, finally looking up. “He’ll have chicken soup and toast, with a ginger ale. I’ll have a club sandwich on wheat, side salad instead of fries, and a diet Coke. Thanks, Marty.” He waited until Marty had left, and then frowned at Steve. “You need to force yourself to eat. Your cheekbones are sharp enough as it is.”

“I know, I just.” Steve grimaced. “I don’t want to get sick on the plane.”

Tony shook his head. “You’re talking to a recovering alcoholic. Would you like a list of all the embarrassing places I’ve thrown up? It includes at least three planes. I say ‘at least,’ because I’m not sure I remember all of them.”

Steve chuckled, then winced at the lingering soreness in his abdominal muscles. “I’ll take your word on it.”

“Anyway, your people are the only ones here. None of them would say a word.” He reached over and rubbed a hand lightly over Steve’s stomach. “Close your eyes for a bit, okay? I’ll wake you up when the food comes.”

“Okay,” Steve agreed. He tilted his seat back and closed his eyes. 

He was nearly asleep when Tony’s phone rang. He startled, then settled again, head tucked against the plush leather of the seat. “Stark,” Tony said. “What’ve you got for me, Val?” 

Steve lifted his head. He supposed his head of security should be reporting to him, technically, but Tony had clearly made himself point person on this, and Steve didn’t have the energy to argue about it. He watched Tony’s face as he rapidly cycled through expressions: interest, surprise, amazement, and, finally, unbridled glee.

“Are you kidding me?” he said. “That’s incredible. How dumb do you have to be? Yeah––yeah, we’ll both want to be briefed as soon as we land. Send anything else you find out to my phone. Thanks, Val.” Tony disconnected. 

“What?” Steve asked.

Tony positively cackled. “Remember how I told you I thought Nielson was the exact brand of stupid that would talk about something like _poisoning the president_ over email? Well, to be honest, I didn’t think it’d be quite that obvious––I thought the investigators would have to do some digging. But Val says they got enough in the first pass through his email to detain and question him.”

“Seriously?” Steve said, dumbfounded. 

“Seriously. He codenamed you ‘Frozen Turkey,’ can you believe it?”

“Frozen... turkey?” 

“Because ‘frozen eagle’ would’ve been too obvious, I guess, and the turkey was almost our national bird. They’re going to get him when he deplanes at JFK.” Tony shook his head. “Email, Steve. _Email_. It’s like these people never learn. This is the problem with narcissists,” Tony went on, leaning forward so Steve could hear him as the engines roared to life and they started taxiing. “They think they’re surrounded by idiots, and that is a dangerous assumption to make.”

Steve had to smile. Tony’s enthusiasm over the felling of Steve’s enemies was infectious. He reached over and caught Tony’s hand. “Tony.”

“What?” Tony asked, glancing up. 

Steve caught his eye and held it. “Thank you.”

Tony’s smile softened. He brought Steve’s hand up and kissed his knuckles just as the plane lifted off. The sound of the engines almost masked Tony’s reply, but Steve’s enhanced hearing caught it just fine. And even if it hadn’t, he’d have understood the sentiment well enough from the look in Tony’s eyes. 

“It was my pleasure, Steve.”

_Fin._


End file.
